Category: Just Shelley

I’ve spent too much time in technology recently, but after the work on the server today, I can take a break. Not too long a break because I have promised essays, for poets and other mad, bad, sad people.

Loren started a review of Catch 22, and I wonder whether to add my own thoughts as he moves along. It’s been years since I’ve read the book and I told myself at the time, “This is it. I’m glad I read it. I won’t read it again.” However, to effectively comment, I do need to read it again.

In his initial reading, Loren didn’t care for the book. Being in Vietnam at the time, his reaction is not surprising. Even now, after he’s learned to respect the work, he writes, …it’s obviously not an easy novel to read.

It’s funny, or perhaps it’s not, but books that have a social conscious can either trip us up as we read past, laying us out face first in the stirred up dust at their feet; or their words can pad softly in on little kitten feet, like Carl Sagan’s fog. I found To Kill a Mockingbird to be one of the quiet ones, and can read it again and again.

Catch 22, though. It forces you, who sits in comfortable chair and lays in comfortable bed, to get into the mind and the world of hell created when paper generals shout out, “Bring ‘em on!”

Reading Catch 22 again. Hmm. Will I make it to the library tomorrow? And if so, will I find the book on the shelves? I couldn’t find Catcher in the Rye last time I looked. Maybe I’ll be lucky this time. Oh, No! Wait! That’s wrong!

Would you believe… I’ll be lucky this time?